Last Family Standing

by Jennifer AlLee

  “Here you go.” I join Jess on the edge of the shelter and hand her a canteen. “I filled it for you.”

  “Thanks.” She sets it down beside her.

  “How’s the ankle?”

  She straightens her leg and moves her foot from side to side. “Not bad. It still hurts some, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Great.”

  She glances at my waist, but doesn’t ask about my injury. Instead, she looks away from me. For a minute, I expect it to be like any other day when she acknowledges my presence, but doesn’t interact beyond a surface level. But then she turns back, shoulders hunched, hands grasping the edge of the shelter floor.

  “You’re not married, are you?”

  “I’m . . . um . . . no. I’m not married.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  My cheeks are burning. It’s no secret I wasn’t married when I had her. Why else would I have given her away? Still, having this conversation, knowing it’s being filmed and any part of it might show up on TV, makes me more than a little uncomfortable.

  “Nope.” I take a shot at being breezy. “Never have.”

  “Why?”

  “No one ever asked.” That’s true, but there’s more to it. No one ever asked because I never let any man get close enough for the question to come up.

  “Not even my father?”

  The shock of the question squeezes like a fist in my gut. I can’t talk about Duncan. But I can’t ignore her question, either.

  “No,” I say, unsuccessfully trying to keep my voice from shaking. “He never asked me, either.”

  Jess chews on her bottom lip, but before she can say anything else, someone calls out that we have pail mail. She hops down from the shelter, careful to land on her good foot, and heads to the pole where everyone is gathering.

  My legs shake as I move to join them. The first personal thing she asks me, and it’s about him. If I wasn’t such a stupid, self-centered idiot, the question wouldn’t have thrown me like it did. Of course she wants to know about her birth father. How could I think getting to know me was her only goal?

  She’ll ask me about him again. I know she will. And then what do I do? How can I tell her about her father, when I never told her father about her?

  ***

  The closer we get to the challenge, the more I hope it’s something really, really physical. Maybe something that involves running with scissors so I can put myself out of my misery once and for all.

  No such luck. This particular challenge is about solving a series of puzzles, which makes it all about mental acuity. Unless I think too hard and give myself an aneurism, chances are good I’ll get through this one unscathed. Makes me think maybe the powers that be decided the medics were working too hard. So, since it appears I can’t get myself a medical leave, I may as well do my best to keep us out of the bottom two.

  I may not be good at untangling my personal life, but I’m pretty darn good at solving puzzles. Jess and I come in second, about a hair’s breadth behind Bob and Tracy, whom I’m quickly coming to think of as our nemeses. Standing behind our last completed puzzle, I feel myself tense up as one after another, the Singletons finish their puzzles. Finally there are three teams left: Maxie and Marcy, Jasmine and Evelyn, and Malcolm and Layla.

  And then, Maxie and Marcy complete their last puzzle.

  “No way.” Jess gasps through her hands, clenched into fists and pressed up against her mouth.

  I know exactly how she feels. Tonight, people who’ve become friends will compete against each other, and another team in our alliance will be leaving.

  The rain starts as we walk back to camp. By the time we reach our shelters, everyone is soaked through. There’s no fire, no way to get dry, so we huddle together under our relatively watertight roof.

  Arms wrapped around my knees, which are pulled up to my chest, I try to keep my teeth from chattering. My body starts to shake, but I don’t think it’s entirely from the cold. The longer I sit there, staring out at the pounding rain, the angrier I’m getting. Finally, I can’t keep quiet anymore.

  “How could this happen?”

  “We’re in the tropics,” Evelyn says. “Rainstorms are the rule, not the exception.”

  I shake my head so hard that water flies from my hair. “No. I mean that the four of you have to compete against each other tonight. We’re the good guys. We work together. Why are we dropping like flies?” Zeroing in on Malcolm, I expect him to have an answer. “Well?”

  “Don’t look at me,” he says. “I rarely understand why things work out the way they do. I just trust that everything will work out. Eventually.”

  “At least you didn’t hurt yourself today,” Jasmine pipes up.

  “Or anyone else,” Jess mutters.

  Jasmine nods. “That’s a step in the right direction.”

  “If you say so.”

  Malcolm smiles. “There you go. Let’s look at what’s going right. No injuries. And we have a sturdy roof to keep off the rain.”

  Right then, as if to prove him wrong, the wind shifts. Now, the rain is blowing into the shelter. We look at each other, but no one has anything left to say. I lay my forehead on my knees and brace myself to wait out the storm.

  When it’s time to go from camp to the final challenge area, the rain has died down a bit, but it hasn’t stopped. As we trudge over to the benches, I realize that the area is covered. For the first time in five hours, we’re not being pelted. It’s the only reason I can think of to be grateful for coming here tonight.

  Rick takes his spot on the podium. His hair is dry. His clothes are dry. His fingers don’t look like ten pale, wrinkled prunes. I just might hate him a teeny tiny bit.

  He welcomes us, then announces the final challenge. Tonight, it really is building a fire. Jess and I look at each other. All four of them practiced with the flint, so they should be equally matched. But Evelyn is a former Scout. She’s the type of woman who whittles herself a spear to go fishing. If I had to guess which one would get their fire going first, I’d pick her. As much as I like the sisters, I really want Malcolm and his daughter to win. Layla and Jess have formed a friendship, so I know she’d be sorry to see her go. And I enjoy Malcolm’s company. Besides, if God really did put him here to give me support, he’s not allowed to go anywhere.

  The four of them take their places. Rick calls for the challenge to start. And it’s over in about a minute.

  Layla, the person who paid the least amount of attention during the fire-building lessons, managed to get a spark on her second try. Then she fed it just enough tinder and gave it just enough oxygen that it bursts into a nice, respectable flame.

  Rick sends Layla and Malcolm to the stands, where Jess immediately grabs the other girl in a bear hug, and Malcolm sits beside me, his face a mix of emotions. Then Rick stands between Evelyn and Jasmine to deliver his signature good-bye.

  “I’m sorry, but you will not be the last family standing. Grab your things and go.”

  Before they leave, the women turn to us and wave. Jasmine is stoic, keeping her composure. But Evelyn is visibly upset, the firelight bouncing off the tears running down her cheeks.

  Rick looks at our group. “Fire means life, especially in the jungle. Today, fire saved one team’s life in the game, and ended another’s. Head on back to camp.”

  Walking back, I watch Jess and Layla, arm in arm, heads bent toward each other as they whisper about who knows what. If Layla had gone home tonight, would Jess talk to me instead? Would she link her arm through mine for moral support? Highly unlikely. It’s good she has a friend here, but with competition heating up how long will it last?

  I walk faster and catch up to Malcolm. “We have to make sure we beat the Singletons next time.”

  He looks down at me in surprise. “So you’re serious about playing the game?”

  “For Jess, yes.” I point at our daughters. “Look at them. I want them to have that as long as possible.”

  “You know, they can
still have that after the show is over. There’s no reason they can’t stay in touch and remain friends.”

  “I know that. But they need each other now.” I look around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear me. “To be honest, I’d like to see your team and my team be the last ones standing at the end.”

  Slowly, he nods his head, as if chewing over what I just said. “I’d like that, too. But then we’ll have to fight to beat each other. We wouldn’t have a choice. How would you feel about that?”

  “Not good, but it’s the lesser of two evils.”

  “Ouch.” He fakes a grimace. “You know, part of my job is convincing people to stay away from all evil, not how to choose one.”

  That makes me laugh out loud. “If you wanted to stay away from evil, you shouldn’t have come on this game.”

  It’s an exaggeration, of course. I don’t think any of the Singletons are truly evil, but they haven’t put their best selves forward to show the world. And the longer we’re all here on this island, the uglier it’s going to get.

  The wind begins to gust, and Malcolm leans into it as we walk. “Tell you what. I promise to give my all to every challenge, and play with sportsmanship and integrity.”

  “Haven’t you already been doing that?”

  He hesitates. “Yes.”

  “Then I guess I can’t ask for anything else. Thank you.”

  When I signed on for this game, I didn’t care about the winner. All I cared about was being here for Jess. But now, it’s become very important that the winner is someone who deserves it. I honestly don’t care if it’s my team or Malcolm’s, just as long as none of the Singletons take home the title, or the big fat check that goes along with it.

  21

  For the next four challenges, I manage not to sustain or cause any injuries. And while Jess and I don’t win, we don’t lose the elimination challenges. Two more teams have left the island: Payton and Rhonda went first, followed by Maxie and Marcy.

  It’s our fifteenth day out here. My bumps, bruises, and scrapes have mostly healed, just in time for Island Ball, another challenge that promises to knock me off my feet.

  There are four baskets, the kind used in basketball, one on each side of a square playing field. Instead of balls, we have coconuts. The idea is for each team to get the coconuts in their own basket, while stopping the other teams from getting them in theirs.

  “If football and basketball had a baby, it would be Island Ball,” Rick jokes. “First team to three wins. And . . . go!”

  Jess and I have a definite disadvantage, since our team is the only one without a man. Bob, Trevor, and Malcolm barely have to do more than stand in front of the person they want to block to be effective. As Jess runs with the coconut, my job was supposed to be stopping Tracy or Wendy from making a basket. But when I see Bob barreling toward Jess, my objective changes. I may be smaller than the guys, but I’m a mama bear. And when mama bear clicks into protection mode, everybody else in the jungle had better watch out.

  Bob is right on Jess’s heels when I charge into him at full run, catching him off guard. He goes down, and I go with him, attempting to do the shoulder tuck roll I learned in high school gym class a thousand years ago. Instead of tucking and rolling, I may have dislocated my shoulder.

  “A nice tackle from Monica!” Rick is doing his announcer thing. He sounds impressed that I was able to take down Bob. Truth is, I’m kind proud of me, too.

  Bob is just ticked. He scrambles up and glares at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Playing to win.”

  I stand up and rotate my shoulder, which is painful, but still in the socket. Then I run to the coconut basket on the opposite end of the field, grab another one, and meet Jess halfway.

  Her look is a cross between shock and admiration. “Thanks for protecting my back. Let’s go.”

  Oh, baby girl, I think as I run behind her, I’ve been trying to protect you since the day you were born

  Now that Bob knows what I’m capable of, he’s changed his tactics. Now he’s going after Layla.

  “Bad idea, Bob.”

  Ignoring the twinge in my side, I sprint toward him. Just as his hand reaches out to grab Layla’s arm, I get hold of the back of his shirt and tug him off balance. He doesn’t fall this time. Instead, he yells and turns on me. For a moment, I’m afraid he might hit me, but then Tracy starts screaming because Trevor is blocking her.

  “This isn’t over,” he growls at me, then he runs off to help her.

  Whatever. Where’s Jess? I look toward our basket in time to see her send our second coconut through it. Good girl.

  Running back to the basket, Malcolm is coming in my direction. As we get close, he winks and lifts one hand. We high-five each other without breaking stride. When I pick up the last coconut, I’m grinning like a fool. When it comes to sports, I’ve always preferred things like swimming, running, or horseback riding. Things I can do by myself, and only have myself to depend on, with the exception of the horse, but in my experience, they’re pretty dependable. I’ve never been part of a team. This feeling that I’m an important part of a winning effort . . . it’s very new, slightly odd, and completely wonderful.

  Before I can reach Jess with the coconut tucked under my arm, I’m blocked by the twin wall that is Bob and Trevor. I’m thinking there’s no way they would tackle a woman. Even though they’re running straight at me, I expect them to stop short before they hit me, or run around me. But there comes a point when I realize they won’t stop, because the whole point is to tackle me, and I have to do something to get this stupid coconut to Jess before they mow me down. So I throw the coconut over their heads.

  Except my aim is really, really off.

  The coconut nails Bob square on the forehead, then bounces off and rolls back to me. Bob goes down on his knees, holding his head and screaming some words I’ve only heard a few times in my life. Apparently afraid that I might do the same thing to him since I’m armed again, Trevor breaks right and runs away from me.

  If Bob was seriously hurt, I’d stop and help. But if he’s coherent enough to string all those words together, then I’m not that concerned. I run around him, toss the coconut to Jess, then watch as she makes the last basket with no interference whatsoever.

  We won. We actually won something. The shock nearly knocks me over. When Jess runs up and throws her arms around me in excitement, I’m even more shocked.

  “An amazing victory by Monica and Jess!” Even Rick is shocked.

  “She cheated!” Tracy stalks past her father, who has stopped swearing but is still on his knees with a hand to his forehead. She stops in front of Rick, hands on her hips. “She threw a coconut at my dad. That’s not fair.”

  “No, I didn’t mean to. I was trying to throw it over his head.”

  Tracy throws her hand up in a dramatic gesture. “Now she’s lying.”

  Rick moves closer to Jess and me, probably so the cameraman can get all four of us in the same shot. “When a play is in question, I’m the referee. And I’m confident that Monica didn’t try to hit Bob. Her team wins.”

  Tracy stomps her foot and walks off in a huff, but she still doesn’t go to her father. It makes me think her indignation is more an act for the camera than the result of genuine concern.

  “Thank you,” I say to Rick.

  He grins. “No need to thank me. I call it as I see it.”

  “How can you be so sure she didn’t mean to hit him?” Jess asks.

  “Because if she did, I think she would have aimed for a different spot.”

  He walks away, laughing to himself. I’m pretty sure that’s one sound bite that won’t make it onto television.

  Rick gets our attention, then motions us closer. “Everybody gather around. You probably want to know what Monica and Jess won.”

  Only Malcolm and Layla respond, but I notice even they aren’t very enthusiastic. Uh oh.

  Rick goes on. “The winning team is being taken
by helicopter to a very special, picturesque spot on the other side of the island.”

  Jess gasps in shock. Groans come from the others.

  “Once there, they can take a shower, get clean clothes, and feast on a barbecue dinner.”

  Even louder groans.

  “But there’s one more thing. To make the dinner a real event, we’ve chosen a special person from each of your lives and invited them here to join you.”

  Some swearing mixes with the groans, and even Malcolm and Layla are frowning. Everybody knows that the only way to have our special people here right now was to have everyone’s people here. Which means that, somewhere in the jungle, their mothers or sisters or fathers or brothers or best friends or whoever, are being taken away from the challenge area. So close, but no way to see them. If I hadn’t won the challenge, I’d be upset, too.

  Rick ignores the dissent and speaks directly to Jess and me. “Are you ready to meet your guests?”

  “Yes,” we say together.

  “Monica, we’ve brought you someone who’s very close to you. The person who knows you better than just about anyone else. Here she is, your best friend, Julia.”

  I can’t contain my squeal of joy as Jules bounds out of the jungle. We run to each other and simultaneously hug and jump up and down. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say.

  “Neither can I. This is so cool!”

  Jess is watching us, her look unreadable. She looks at Rick, waiting to find out who they brought for her.

  Rick nods. “Jess, it wasn’t easy, but we found a very special person for you. It’s someone you’ve wanted to see for a long time. Here he is . . . Duncan McAllister, your birth father!”

  All warmth flees my body. My face, chest, hands, feet, have all turned to ice. The foliage rustles, and out walks the biggest mistake of my life. He hasn’t changed much in the last twenty-six years. Dark brown hair a little too long and hanging in waves that brush his shoulders, cheeks and jaws covered with a shadow of stubble, and eyes as dark and decadent as devil’s food cake. A slow, easy smile lifts his familiar lips. If Jules wasn’t right behind me, that smile would have knocked me over.